


My Blood on Your Hands

by BookewyrmeWritesFic



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Anxious Katsuki Yuuri, Blood, Dark Victor Nikiforov, First Meetings, Grief, Hopeful Ending, I'm Sorry, Loneliness, M/M, Minor Character Death, No Major Character Death, Not Canon Compliant, Vicchan still dies, tragic accidents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:14:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24493327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BookewyrmeWritesFic/pseuds/BookewyrmeWritesFic
Summary: He slumped forward and buried his face in a warm shoulder and cried. He was so pathetic he was crying into his killer’s shoulder as he died. Unmourned and alone except his killer. What a way to go.
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Comments: 17
Kudos: 72





	My Blood on Your Hands

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Riki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riki/gifts).



> I woke up yesterday morning with this fic in my head almost fully formed. I [tweeted](https://twitter.com/LiaWolff/status/1267097999332773895?s=20) about it, just to get it out of my head, because I had no real hope I could ever do it justice. But then Riki got ahold of my tweets and ~~enabled~~ encouraged me to go for it and I finally did. This is not my usual fare of smut and fluff with mild angst, but I hope everyone enjoys it anyway. 
> 
> I want to thank my two betas Comet and Riki. Really, without Riki this fic would not exist, and certainly wouldn't be as good. Thank you so much for all the encouragement and wonderful concrit on this! I'm really grateful for all the enthusiasm you put into my little story! This is for you!
> 
> Anyway. Mind the tags, I promise nobody except Vicchan and an OC die, and rated M for violence (no smut in this one guys). Let me know what you think!

Yuuri slouched in through the door to his apartment, empty and cold as always. There was no one to greet him at the door anymore, no living warmth to chase away the chill of loneliness. As he moved through the kitchen he tripped over the empty dog bowls. He really needed to pick those up and get rid of them, it had been a month since the fire after all. Vicchan wasn’t coming back, and holding onto his bowls and toys and leashes was just pathetic at this point. He didn’t even know why he had moved them to the new apartment with him after he had cleaned out what was left of his old apartment. Like a little kid who refused to give up a favorite toy even though the middle had been ripped out and only broken pieces remained. 

He was so absorbed in his own gloomy contemplation that he didn’t really register the quiet _snick_ of the door opening and closing. He had no roommates or family to barge in after him. There was a rustle of movement where none should be and Yuuri started to turn in confusion, when there was an impact and a sudden sharp agony along his back, below the shoulder blade. Pain ripped through him and he cried out, stumbling back with tears prickling his eyes. 

Turning, Yuuri stared into the hard blue eyes of a man dressed in black and grey. His silver hair shone in the low light of the street lamp outside the window. _What was happening? Who was this man? Why was he in so much pain all of a sudden?_

“W-what?” Yuuri stuttered, his brain moving through treacle to try to understand what was happening. Something wet was sliding down his back, sticking his shirt to his skin.

The man held a knife smeared with bright blood in his hand, though lowered. 

“I finally caught you.” The man’s voice was low and melodic with a faint accent, but flat, without expression.

Stumbling back another step, Yuuri tripped over the bowls again and collapsed on the kitchen floor, hands raised in a defensive posture. Agony speared through him and he stared up at his attacker with wide, frightened eyes.

“Please, just -- just take what you want, please!” Yuuri pleaded.

“I want your life.” The man stood over him threateningly, the knife raised in one trembling hand, voice cold.

Tears pricked at Yuuri’s eyes as fear rushed through him. He was going to die. He whispered, “I don’t understand.”

“You killed my mother.” Ice dripped in sharp shards from the man’s voice.

“What??” Yuuri felt like he’d been struck again, stomach roiling with nausea as panic rose inside him. “N-no I didn’t! I’ve never! I couldn’t!”

The man’s face twisted with anger. “Don’t play dumb with me. You let her die in that fire because of a petty argument!”

“T-the fire? But, the only one who died was Mrs Nikiforova!” _And my Vicchan_ he thought, but didn’t say. A hysterical sob rose in his throat, “I would never want her to-to die! I-I tried!”

“She was my mother.”

“Victor?”

The man looked faintly surprised. “You know of me?”

“Yes, she talked of you often.” Yuuri realized he was babbling and shook his head. Tears began to stream down his face. “I thought everyone was out, I didn’t know she was still home! Please, I swear I tried!”

The man, Victor, frowned at him, sinking down to his knees on the blood-splattered floor. “What do you mean?”

“I knocked on her door, but she didn’t answer so I thought she must still be out! Please, I-I never meant for anything to happen, it was an accident I swear.” Yuuri swiped at his tears with a clumsy, numb hand, and narrowed his eyes. “You...you were there with her.”

Victor’s voice was slightly choked. “Yes. She died in my arms.”

Yuuri leaned forward and placed a hand over Victor’s where it still held the knife. “I’m so sorry. I-I can’t imagine how you feel. I should have tried harder, knocked again, made sure she was out. You’re...you’re probably right to blame me.”

 _What was he doing, comforting his killer like this?_ But the man’s face was so twisted in agony, Yuuri’s heart went out to him. He remembered the pain of when his own parents had died, and multiplied that tenfold by having it happen in front of him. 

A wave of weakness came over him, and he started to slump sideways. Victor caught him and held him upright, a strange expression frozen on his face. Yuuri looked down at his lap, tears gathering again. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, this is all my fault.”

“She...told me about your argument that day. I just thought…” Victor’s voice was strangely hesitant. 

Shaking his head, Yuuri looked up at him. “I never wanted her to die. I-I miss her too.”

More tears and a little sob escaped Yuuri. His vision was darkening around the edges. He slumped forward and buried his face in a warm shoulder and cried. He was so pathetic he was crying into his killer’s shoulder as he died. Unmourned and alone except his killer. What a way to go. 

Victor’s voice was softer, more lost. “I saw you there, watching, and I thought you were happy she had died. I thought...maybe you did it on purpose to get back at her.”

Yuuri shook his head again. “Never.”

“I…I thought...” Victor’s words broke, and horror filled his voice. 

Yuuri, shifted, wincing at the spear of agony through his back the movement caused, and lifted one hand, moving as if he weighed a thousand pounds. As gently as his clumsy limbs allowed, he patted Victor’s face. “It’s ok. It’ll be ok. I would blame me too. I should have done more.”

The pain receded somewhat, and now Yuuri was just numb all over, and cold. He gripped at Victor’s shirt, grateful to have someone to hold onto, even if it was his killer. “I’m s-so sorry. Thank you for staying. I-I hate being alone so much.”

Victor’s voice was almost a whisper. “I hate being alone too.”

A long moment of silence and then Victor tilted Yuuri’s head up and stared into his eyes. “I’m so sorry for stabbing you Yuuri. You...you don’t deserve this.”

Yuuri smiled a little, his head swimming and his tongue thick. He murmured, “No, I definitely deserved it. It _was_ my fault the fire started, I was careless and we both paid the price.” He reached heavily for Victor’s hand. His thoughts escaped through his lips. “And at least I have someone pretty to look at as I die.”

As the darkness finally closed over his head, he heard faintly Victor’s distant voice crying out “No...no wait…” and then he knew no more.

~

Yuuri woke up slowly. His body felt leaden, and his mouth was dry. He had some sort of tube in his nose, and movement of his hand brought the tug of a needle against his skin where another tube was connected. _Hospital_ Yuuri thought groggily. Why was he in the hospital? Oh, right. Mrs Nikiforova’s son had stabbed him. And stayed with him. Why wasn’t he dead? Yuuri opened his eyes, squinting against the bright hospital lights. Something was in his other hand, and he turned his heavy head slightly to see what it was. It turned out to be a hand. Gaze traveling slowly up the other person’s arm, he finally landed on the closed eyes and messy silver hair of Victor’s head laying on his bed. Said hair was greasy and unkempt as if hands had been run through it several times, and there were faint lines drawn all about the side of Victor’s face that he could see, as if he had been crying. He was frowning in his sleep.

“Victor?” Yuuri croaked.

The faintness of his voice was still enough to jerk Victor awake. “Yuuri! You’re awake!” Victor swiped at his eyes and pasted on a sickly smile that didn’t seem to fit his face. “How do you feel?” 

“Awful.”

“God, I’m so sorry Yuuri. I-I hope you don’t mind that I stayed.” Victor looked a mixture of guilty and hopeful. 

Yuuri shook his head slightly. “No, but. Why are you here?”

“I...I told them I was your boyfriend, and I found you in your apartment. I didn’t think they’d let me stay otherwise, and I had to know you were ok.”

“No. I mean.” Yuuri gasped a little for breath, noting distantly that the pain seemed much more removed now. “I thought you hated me.”

Victor was silent for a few long minutes, eyes cast down and shoulders slumped. When he started speaking it was so quiet that Yuuri strained a little to hear. “I blamed you for so long. After mom told me about the fight, and seeing you standing there while she died, I-I hated you like I’ve never hated anyone before. I thought for sure you skipped her apartment on purpose.”

“I would never!”

“I know, it was ridiculous. I didn’t even know you. My only excuse is grief. But back there, in the apartment when you were dying in my arms just like she did, I realized” Victor’s voice broke. “It was my fault, not yours. I was the one who suggested she stay home and relax. I suggested the bath, and the music. She couldn’t have heard anything.”

Squeezing Victor’s hand to get his attention, Yuuri burst out, “But you couldn’t have known!” It felt strange to comfort his would-be murderer, but something compelled him. “That’s not your fault! You were just trying to make your mother feel better!”

Victor shook his head but didn’t respond, squeezing Yuuri’s hand back. They sat there in silence holding hands and looking at each other. What could Yuuri possibly say to make this better for the other man? There were no words, in any of the languages Yuuri knew to heal the hurt of watching your mother die. 

Finally, Yuuri spoke up again. “You told them you were my boyfriend?”

“Yea.” Victor smiled sheepishly. “I hope you don’t really have one to get mad about that. I-It was just so they’d let me stay with you. I had to make sure you were ok. This is all my fault. I want to make it up to you.”

“I can’t believe you stayed. I thought you wanted me dead.”

“I did, but not anymore. I’m so sorry Yuuri, I wasn’t thinking straight, but I promise I’ll make it up to you. If you let me.”

“Ok.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this, or need to scream about it, or just need a shoulder to cry on, leave me a comment! They are my life-blood!
> 
> If you liked this and want to see more of what I'm writing these days, follow [my twitter](https://twitter.com/LiaWolff) to keep up with all my latest fics and original work!


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